Little Red Riding Hoodie
by moosesweaters
Summary: Sydney was just trying to live a normal life - if you count having an IQ of 143, graduating high school early, being gifted in writing programs, and the fact that her brother's best friend is a werewolf as a normal life. But now with a giant lizard man running (slithering?) around Beacon Hills wreaking havoc, her semi-normal life is going down the supernatural toilet. Great.
1. one

**note:** Okay, so just as a fair warning, this story take place in season 2. These chapters will go unbeta'd, so expect to see a few errors here and there. I'll attempt to maintain as many canon events as possible, but I do plan switching Sydney in for some characters in certain scenarios. And I have to go and rewatch all of season 2, just to be sure I don't miss anything important; so it may take a while to post chapters. Also, I'll put a little note at the beginning of each chapter that says what episode the chapter takes place in, along with any other things I have to tell you. Hopefully this story won't end up being complete shit. c:

**note2:** I'd also like to note that I'm dedicating this story to my cousin (devynnrenaee on here), who I've inducted into the Teen Wolf fandom. You're welcome and I'm not sorry for ruining your life. ;D

**note3:** This chapter takes place a few days before _Omega _(2x01).

* * *

Sydney just stared at her ceiling, like she had been doing for the past - she picked up her phone to look at the time - four hours. Trying to get to sleep was difficult, when your best friend was in the hospital due to a previously incapacitated and probably mentally insane werewolf. At least that psycho-wolf was no longer around, due to Scott, Stiles, and Allison. She only wishes she could have been the one to throw the molotov cocktail; yeah, that would be at least a little satisfying, but she had been at home, busy with doing some work for her online college course.

She sighed, picking up her phone again, but this time as soon as it was in her hand, she threw off her duvet and crept across her dark room. She felt around as soon as she reached the other side of the room, looking for her dresser. As soon as she felt the smooth wood under her fingers, she knelt down and reached out for a shoe, for one of the many that were piled next to her door. She saw no need in putting them away if she was just going to put them back on, so they stayed in a heap next to the door until they spilled past their little pile and in front of the door. Only when they got in the way would she put them in an orderly fashion in a shoe rack that hung on the back of her door.

After she concluded by feeling the entirety of the pile of shoes that she was indeed wearing a matching pair of sneakers, she felt for the third drawer down on her dresser. Getting it open, she retrieved a sweatshirt and pulled it over her head. Seeing as she was properly dressed - in a sweatshirt and sweatpants - she shuffled to the left, feeling the wall for the memory board that was hanging to the left of her door. There were pictures of her and Stiles, her and Lydia, her and various other friends and relatives, and a family photo that had been taken on her and Stiles' third birthday, the twins covered in blue and purple frosting (and Stiles' blue frosting-covered hands smearing across Scott's face just outside the picture) with their dad laughing in the background, and their mom rushing over with a wad of wet wipes in her hand.

Finding the board, she moved her fingers to the bottom of the frame, looking for the hook out the four that were screwed to it that held her keys. Her fingers brushed over each hook, until she found her keys. She grabbed them from the hook and made her way back over to the door, quietly opening it, so she wouldn't wake up her brother. Their dad had carted him home, much to his sleepy protests, and away from Lydia's hospital room so that he could get some actual sleep in an actual bed, not just napping in intervals in uncomfortable hospital chairs. That's to say she assumed he was sleeping - he didn't really seem to grasp the concept of a sleeping schedule.

She snuck into the living room, and finding no evidence of any lights left on or cupboard doors that were left open accidentally, she assumed her dad wasn't home yet and probably wouldn't be home for several more hours. She tossed one last look down the hallway to make sure Stiles hadn't gotten out of bed to see who was creeping around the house before she went outside and to her car, a '71 Nova, which she thought was way cooler than Stiles' '76 CJ5. She slid into her it - which was cobalt blue with white racing stripes - and shoved the key in the ignition. She twisted the key and put the car in reverse, backing out of the driveway and heading in the direction of the Beacon Hills Forest Preserve.

**.**

Sydney had made the decision to walk on a trail, one that loops back around to the dirt and stone lot that she had parked her car just outside of, having hopped over the chain fence that was meant to prevent cars from entering the parking lot after-hours. Sadly, it didn't keep out teenage girls that can hop fences. The forest surrounding the trail was nearly pitch-black, if it wasn't for the moon shining between the trees. Even then, there was hardly enough light to see the forest floor. Luckily, the trail that she had chosen to walk on was one that she frequented most often, using it to run on since it was only three miles long, just long enough to get a good run in.

To be honest, she should be scared of the forest, since she knew what was lurking in it - werewolves, dead bodies, dead werewolf bodies, and the like. But she had gotten that adventurous curiosity along with Stiles from their mother, which their dad had a strong dislike for, since it usually ended up with him finding his children at crime scenes; it didn't help that Stiles had temporarily misappropriated their dad's old police scanner with no intentions of returning it. But hey, at least they were showing up at crime scenes instead of doing and dealing illicit drugs that they could've taken from the evidence room in the station, with the help of their (scary) good skill at being able to slip a key from its ring without anyone noticing.

She held her phone in her hands, her earbuds tucked into her ears. She was concentrating intently on the dimly screen before her. Her fingers flew rapidly against the glass, typing letters, numbers, and symbols in different combinations, the writing turning red, green, blue, yellow and white as they were added to the algorithm she was producing. She thought she might as well get some coursework done while trying not to stress out about your best friend possibly becoming a werewolf - or dying. Dying was definitely an option that was on the table, and an option that she wouldn't be ready to deal with. She shook her head, trying to rid the thoughts from her brain. Of course Lydia was going to live, even if it meant she was to become a werewolf. That girl could charm the pants off Death and come back to the world of the living with his phone number and a coffee date with him on Sunday.

She'd glance up briefly every now and then, to make sure she was still on the trail and heading in the right direction; it was kind of hard not to, since the trail was essentially a tall "u" shape. You just went straight for 1.4 miles, made a half circle for .2 miles, and then walked straight again for another 1.4 miles. And with how fast she was walking, she'd make it home just before her dad did. But he'd be too tired to notice that -

She was pulled out of her thoughts when she ran into something, causing her to drop her phone and successfully (and painfully) rip the earbuds that had been occupying her ears out.

"Shit," she muttered, crouching to grab her phone and earbuds off the forest floor, hoping the fall didn't cause any more cracks to appear in her already partially-spiderwebbed screen.

At first, she just thought that it was a tree, but then brain kicked in, and she made a quick mental list: _a) trees aren't warm when you touch them, b) trees don't move when you run into them, and c) trees don't wear pants. _And right now, she was staring at the legs of a pair of pants - or what she assumed was pants, it was really too dark to tell. She stood up quickly, realizing that her head was just basically in the crotch of whoever this person was. Hopefully it wasn't a murderer, because her dad would kill her. Well, hypothetically, since the murderer would most likely kill her, so she'd already be dead. It was too dark to see, so she flicked on the flashlight on her phone and pointed it in front of her to reveal tall, brooding, and previously a suspect in a case of mass murder - Derek Hale. He squinted under the light, seeming mildly annoyed.

"You shouldn't be in the woods," he said, crossing his arms over his chest._  
_

"Why? Because it's illegal to be in the preserve after dark? Because it's "private property"? Because it's where murders tend to hang out? Or are you going to go for the "there's mountain lions killing everybody" option?," she said, crossing her own arms over her chest to mirror him. "Take your pick."

He didn't reply, only looked her over; but she didn't know if he was checking her out (which seemed highly illogical, since she was wearing the least flattering clothes ever) or sizing her up like a python that's planning to kill you would. Most likely the latter, considering he was an alpha without a pack right now, except exchange the word "kill" with "bite", and not the kinky kind. Like full on, sinking my fangs into your skin like a werewolf Dracula imitator, "I'm gonna bite you and you're going to become a werewolf" bite.

"And you're going full out Starbucks here, not ordering off the menu," she muttered, dropping her arms and taking a tentative step back.

He just moved a step closer, asking, "what?"

"You shouldn't give me the bite, like you think you want to," she spat out quickly, her heart rate spiking slightly in correlation with the big bad alpha stepping close to her. He didn't seem to mind that she knew he was a werewolf, or frankly didn't care; for all she knew, he could've thought she was a hunter. "I've got ADHD a-and I've got really bad anxiety a-"

"The bite is a gift," he replied, cutting her off and closing the small space between them with a single step. "And it can take care of those...imperfections."

"Excuse me?" she said, (acting) clearly offended. "Do you know how fragile a teenage girl's self-esteem is?"

He just rolled his eyes.

"And your "gift" is something I don't want," she said, glancing around her subtly, looking for a point of escape. It didn't matter, though, because he'd probably just run her down and do a bite-and-run, like what happened with Scott. "I'm fine being 100% human, my defects included, thank you every much."

"Are you sure about that?" he asked, gently placing his hands on either side of her face (that caused her heart rate to spike once again), giving her a look that was she assumed was supposed to look seductive, but it just turned out condescending.

"Yep, I'm pretty sure that you're just a condescending asshole that'll do anything to get his way."

At that, he growled. Actually, _legitimately, _growled. Before she process what happened, Sydney was pressed up against a tree - causing her to groan at the impact - and Derek's hand around her neck. Her hands shot up to her neck, her fingers curling around his wrist and the back of his hand. "You're lucky I'm even giving you a choice," he growled, eyes flashing red.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she choked out, fingers prying at his index finger, making a weak attempt at getting free from his grip.

"Do what? Bite you?" He let out a laugh that was filled with cruel humor.

"Fingerprints make pretty good evidence," she mused with a smile, which confused Derek. "Especially when you're leaving five perfectly good ones on my neck."

"They'll heal," he spat out, like he was assuming I was actually going to let him bite me. He pulled - yanked would probably be a better choice of a word - my neck to the side, then hooked a finger under my sweatshirt, tugging it to the side to expose my shoulder. Holy shit, he was actually going to do it. Her heart was practically trying to break its way out of her ribcage at this point. Derek leaned down, to get better access to her shoulder. He wolfed out, a fangs almost touching her bare skin, but he stopped for a second, smelling something familiar. Then it hit his nose - the familiar, _annoying_ smell of Stiles just barely clinging to the sweatshirt, under layers of soapy and sweaty smells.

He suddenly backed off, leaving her slumping down against the tree and rubbing the her lightly bruised neck. How he hadn't noticed was beyond him (he'd later chalk it up to just being the lighting and the fact that the wind way blowing into his back). They had the same general face shape - with the the exception of hers being narrower - the same skin tone, the same eye color, the same hair color, and a similar splattering of moles covered both of their bodies. They were both lanky, although Sydney particularly liked her long legs that came with the lankiness. They had the same mannerisms - sarcasm, stuttering when afraid, and being stupidly smart.

"You're Stiles' sister," he said, wolf features shrinking back into non-existence.

"No shit Sherlock," she said with sharp annoyance, still rubbing her neck. "I'm surprised you even know who I am. It's not like my brother to mention me, considering the eternal grudge match we have going on." She pushed up against the tree, making her way into a standing position.

"You should go home," he stated, like it was a fact.

"Again, no shit. I would," she said before taking a deep breath and leaning back against the tree, "if I wasn't about too...break into an anxiety attack...you fucking jerk." She leaned her head back, closing her eyes. "Shit," she breathed out. A roll of nausea hit her stomach and she groaned, before leaning over to spit out bike that had risen in the back of her throat. "You are the biggest...asshole, you know that...right?"

He just stood there, unsure what to do.

"Come here," she said, swallowing with a grimace and beckoning him to her with her finger. "You're going to...help me to my car. I don't want...to fucking pass out."

**.**

Derek did (eventually) walk Sydney back to where her car was parked, but left her as soon as it was in sight.

She rested her head against the steering wheel, taking deep breaths, deciding that she better try and calm herself down before attempting to drive back home. Fucking hell, sourwolf, way to scare a girl shitless.


	2. two

**note:** This chapter takes place during _Omega _(2x01).

* * *

Sydney was hunched over in a chair next to the wall, while Stiles was slung across a row of hospital chairs in the most uncomfortable looking way possible, snoring lightly. Her head was resting in her palm, and her elbow on the wooden armrest that would sure enough leave an angry red mark on her arm when she woke up. There was a small paper bag - like the ones you get when you go shopping - that was clutched loosely in her fingers, the bag itself filled with an assortment of make-up products that she was going to present to Lydia when she woke up (well, she would've already, but Sydney was currently napping herself and therefore unable to present the very awake Lydia with her present), knowing sure and well that Lydia would not be one to turn down the possibility of a make-over, especially since she had not been in the reach of a makeup brush in the past week.

"Just like that.." Stiles mumbled. "No, no, you first - me first?" A vague gesture of a smile appeared on his sleeping face before it slackened and he began to snored once again. He had always been a sleep-talker, and Sydney had grown to ignore it; if she hadn't she'd never would have had gotten any sleep when they were little and still sharing the same room. Thank god they had seperate rooms now.

Mr. Martin exited Lydia's hospital room quietly, his hands on his hips and his lips pursed, clearly unhappy with what had gone on just moment's ago in the hospital room. He glanced at the twins, then motioned to Melissa to come over to him.

"They've been here all night," he said, gesturing to the sleeping siblings.

"They've been here _all weekend_," she said, crossing her arms.

"You're dirty," Stiles sleep-mumbled once again, making a kissing motion with his lips before he was startled awake. He looked around, slightly confused and began to sit up, hitting the "get well" balloon that he had brought for Lydia, which was tied to his wrist. He glanced to his left, where his sister was still asleep. He hit her lightly on the arm, which got zero response from her. He repeated the action, only a little harder this time, which caused her eyelids to fluttered open and drop the bag she had been holding, a swear forming on her lips. When she realized that it was her brother that had woken her, she sat up, relieving her body of its previously hunched posture (which was definitely going to be sore later). She yawned and stretched her arms over her head, her back cracking as she did. She rubbed her eyes and looked at her brother.

"What time is it?" she asked, yawning again.

"Uh, I don't know," he said, scrunching up his face and making an exaggerated shrugging gesture. "Find a clock."

Right, because finding a clock was the only option to find out what time it was. No, really, it was - she had fallen asleep before she could locate the nearest outlet and plug in her phone.

Stiles stood up, stretching his hands over his head and groaned, the edge of his shirt moving slightly upwards before it returned to its regular, slightly crumpled position lower on his torso. "I'm going to get something from the vending machine. You want anything?"

"Bring me back a Hershey's bar, if they have dark chocolate or cookies and cream. If they don't have either, well -" she yawned again, "- damn hospital vending machines to hell, and just get me some Reese's."

"Quit," Stiles said, before yawning himself, "that." Sydney just grinned at him, obvious pleased that her yawning had become contagious. He hit her playfully on the shoulder, smiling, before he went off on a quest to find the nearest vending machine. But he didn't have to go far, only traveling just around the corner to reach the vending machine in closest proximity. He reached into his pocket and yawned again - damn it Sydney - surveying his limited options. _Hershey's, Payday, Mr. Goodbar_...before his eyes settled on Reese's. He put his coinage into the vending machine and pressed the button marked "I". The package rolled forward with the turning metal coil, but stopped just short of falling to its demise, leaning forward slightly. It was close to the edge that if the cool had just moved half in inch further, the candy would have fallen and Stiles could enjoy its peanut butter and chocolatey goodness. But no, fate decided that he was, in fact, not going to do that. He pressed the button again, one, twice, three more times but nothing happened, his Reese's still stuck at the end of the metal coil.

He sighed, "seriously?"

He hit the glass a few times before resorting to shaking it, but that didn't help his problem either. He took a half-step back, looking the machine over once, and then pressed his whole body against the glass, arms wrapped around the sides. He tried pushing it, leaning it back, but alas it did nothing. His candy was still perched on the end of the coil. Another half step back, mumbling, "that's not gonna work." Another half step forward and his hands were on the top edge of the machine and he started shaking it again. This time, something did happen - but he only had a few seconds to move out of the way before the machine crashed to the ground, with the dramatic sound of glass shattering. He glanced behind him to make sure no one was there to witness what had just happened, or heard the sound of the vending machine falling to the ground. He leaned back over the it, in hopes that he could figure out some way to get the machine back to standing up so he could get the Reese's he'd paid for and sneakily take a Hershey's bar for his sister, since the glass had most definitely shattered, therefore leaving a big and gaping hole perfect for snatching candy.

But just when he'd figured out a way to lift it back up that involved a stick of butter, a rope, and one of the hospital chairs, there was a scream - a scream he instantly recognized. He turned around, saying "Lydia?" to himself before bolting back to her room, along with Mr. Martin and Melissa. "Lydia!"

"What the hell was that?" Melissa asked, running to the door.

Sydney was first to the one door, having been still seated in the line of hospital chairs outside the room, glancing around but not getting up to look for an electrical outlet in the hallway. She wrenched the door open, the three other following her in quickly.

"Lydia?" she half-asked, half-shouted, but seeing the bed empty she turned and went for the bathroom. She pulled that door open too, Stiles pushing between Mr. Martin and Melissa to follow his sister. But when the bathroom door was shoved open, it was empty, no trace that Lydia had even been in the room with the exception of the running tub faucet, which Melissa reached over to turn off. Sydney looked about the room, trying to find where Lydia could have escaped to, when her eyes settled on a window that was propped open, the full moon visible through the glass. She reached over, not taking her eyes off the window, and hit her brother in the shoulder. He looked in the direction she was looking, and his jaw fell slack.

"Someone call my dad," he mumbled.

"Already on it," Melissa said, stepping out of the bathroom with her cell phone pressed to her ear.

**.**

"Naked? As in nude?" Sheriff Stilinski asked with his eyebrows raising, walking with Melissa and Mr. Martin. He had arrived shortly after Melissa had called him, along with a few other officers.

"I'm pretty sure they mean the same thing, but yes, as far as we know she left here, clothing optional," Melissa replied.

"You checked the hospital, right?"

"Every last corner."

"Nothing suspicious?"

"Nothing. She just took off."

The Sheriff turned to the nearest officer, who happened to be standig next to him. "Let's get an APB out on a 16-year-old redhead." He turned his head back to Melissa. "Another other descriptors?"

"Stiles," Sydney hissed quietly, grabbing the back of her brother's shirt and trying to prevent him from getting them in trouble, but it was too late; he was already walking towards their dad. She just sighed and hurried after him.

"Five foot three, green eyes, fair skin, and her hair is actually strawberry blonde," Stiles said confidently

"Only you," Sydney mumbled, trying to hid herself behind her hand. She was a strong believer in the "I can't see you, you can't see me" method.

"Is that right?" the Sheriff asked, but it lacked any note of him taking what any of his son said seriously.

"Yeah," was all Stiles got out before his dad but his hand on the back of his son's neck, steering him a few steps away from Melissa and Mr. Martin. He was about to begin lecturing when he looked back to where he had been standing, pointing to his daughter and making a "come here" motion with his hand. She quickly walked over to her brother and dad, hoping that they would only get reprimanded for yet again hanging around a crime scene - well, in this case, a missing person scene - and not legitly punished.

"What the hell are you two still doing here?" They both fidgeted, and Stiles took the lead.

"Uh, we were -"

"- providing moral support," Sydney provided.

"How about you two provide your asses back home, where you should be."

"Yeah," Stiles sort of groaned. "We can do that too."

The Sheriff pushed his children in the direction of the door, and the two walked slowly towards where they had been pushed.

"Call Scott," Sydney said, looking back over her shoulder at their dad briefly.

"What?"

"I said, _call Scott,_" she repeated, snapping her head to look at her brother. She motioned with her eyes to the bag she had been holding earlier, before Lydia had gone and jumped out the window of her hospital room. Stiles took it from her hands and looked into to find something that definitely should not be inside a shopping bag - Lydia's hospital gown. "Now call Scott." She took the bag back from her brother, grabbing his wristing and pulling him out of the hospital as he dialed Scott with his free hand.

**.**

Sydney hopped into the driver's seat of Stiles' jeep, dropping the bag she had been carrying into Scott's lap before continuing into the back seat. Stiles got in after her, slamming the door behind him. She leaned up against the seat as soon as her brother was situated, so she could have full view of Scott.

"This was the one she was just wearing?" Scott asked her as he reached into the bag, pulling out the white polka-dotted dressing gown, and she nodded. The twins were staring at Scott, anxiousness tied up in both of their features. "I'm not going to let anyone hurt her. Not again," he assured them.

"Just shove the thing in your face and let's find her," Stiles said, sighing. He turned the key in the ignition, only to have the headlights light up the silhouette of Allison Argent.

"Jesus Christ on a cracker," Sydney said quickly, moving her hand up to put it over her heart. Allison was going to give her a heart attack.

"Wow," Stiles muttered as Allison made her way to the passenger side, where Scott was.

"What are you doing here? Someone's gonna see us," Scott said, talking to Allison through the open window.

"I don't care," Allison replied. "She's my best friend and we need to find here before they do."

"I can find her before the cops can."

"How about before my father does?"

"He knows?" Stiles asked, craning his head to look at Allison.

"Yeah. I just saw him and three other guys leave my house in two SUV's."

"Search party," Sydney said.

"More like a hunting party."

There was a pause, before Scott opened the door slightly, "get in."

Allison pulled the door open and stepped in, crawling over Scott and into the backseat with Sydney. Scott slammed the door shut and Stiles cranked it into drive, peeling out of the parking lot.

"Okay, but if she's actually turning, will they actually kill her?" Stiles said, gesturing with one hand while the other was on the steering wheel. Quite dangerous, but Sydney did the same thing all of the time.

"I don't know. They won't tell me anything, okay? All they said is we'll talk after Kate's funeral when the others get here," Allison said, sighing.

"What others?" Sydney asked, her eyebrows shooting up.

"They won't tell me that yet."

"Okay, your family's got some serious communication issues to work on." Stiles turned his head from the road to Scott, who currently had his upper half outside the window, sniffing the air. "Scott, are we going the right way?"

"Take the next right!"

**.**

Scott's tracking had taken them to the preserve, specifically the area that just so happened to be near the Hale house. Huh. Coincidence.

"She came here?" Stiles asked, turning around to look at Scott. "You're sure?"

"This is where the scent leads," Scott said.

Stiles sighed and turned back around, taking a few steps forward before turning back around.

"Alright, but has Lydia ever been here?"

"Not with me," Allison said.

"Me neither," Sydney said, stuffing her hands in her pockets and going around Scott and Allison so she could walk next to her brother.

"Maybe she came here on instinct, like she was looking for Derek," Allison said, walking slowly.

"You mean - looking for an alpha," Scott said, knowning exactly what she was trying to say.

"Wolves need a pack, right?"

"Not all of 'em."

"But would she have been drawn to an alpha? Is it an instinct to be part of a pack?"

"Yeah, we're- we're stronger in packs."

Allison nodded. "Like strength in numbers."

"No like literally, stronger, faster, better in every way."

"That the same for an alpha?"

Scott nodded. "That'll make Derek stronger too."

"Woah, hey, look at this," Stiles said, holding a thin wire in his hand. Allison took a few steps and kneeled next to him.

"I think it's a trip wire," Sydney said. Stiles started lift up on it, and all she got out was "Stiles, I don't -" before he lifted it up all the way, and Scott was hauled into the air by a loop of wire around his ankle. "- think you should pull the trip wire," she said with a sigh. Apparently, she was on the only one who could she Scott swaying upside down, because the other two seemed oblivious to the sight behind them.

"Stiles -" Scott said.

"Yeah, buddy - _oh_," Stiles said, turning around fully.

"Next time you see a trip wire, don't trip it."

"I tried to tell," Sydney sighed.

Allison looked like she was trying to suppress a laugh, her hand covering her mouth.

"Yeah, noted."

The three stepped over to Scott, before he quickly said, "Wait, wait, wait, wait," and held up his hands before he proceeded to flail them. "Someone's coming. Hide. Go!"

The trio ran into the woods, looking for some place to hide with a high chance of not being caught, which ended up being behind a particularly large tree. Even from the distance, they could hear the conversation that was about to happen.

"Scott," a steely voice said.

"It's my dad!" Allison whispered, and Sydney waved her hand at Allison, trying to shush her so they could hear what was being said.

"Mr. Argent," Scott replied.

"How are you doing?"

"Good. You know, just hangin' out. Is this one of yours? It's, uh, good. Nice design. Very constricting," Scott said, making some attempt at sarcasm.

"What are you doing out here, Scott?"

"Looking for my friend."

"Ah, that's right. Lydia's in your group now, isn't she? Part of the clique? Is that the word you use? Or is there another way to put it? Part of your _pack_?"

"Actually, clique sounds about right to me," Scott replied, sounding a bit angry.

"I hope so. 'Cause I know she's a friend of Allison's, and one special circumstance, such as yourself - one, I can handle. Not two." He paused. "Scott, do you know what a hemicorporectomy is?"

"I have a feeling I don't want to."

"A medical term for amputating somebody at the waist. Cutting them in half. Takes a tremendous amount of strength to cut through tissue and bone like that. Let's hope a demonstration never becomes necessary."

Soon, the sound of crunching footsteps disappeared and the three ran out from behind the tree they had used as a hiding spot and over to Scott.

"You okay?" Allison asked.

"It's just another life-threatening conversation with your dad."

Allison stepped over to where the wire was rigged. "Stiles, help me with this."

Scott reached up with extended claws and sliced through the wire, landing on his feet. "Thanks, but I think I got it."

"Yeah," Stiles said, sounding a little defeated.

Allison just made an amused noise.

"Comin'?" Scott said over his shoulder, starting to walk.

"You're a big show off, Scott, I hope you know that," Sydney said.


	3. three

**note:** I have a feeling that almost all of the episodes will be split into two chapters, like this one.

**note2: **This chapter takes place during _Omega_ (2x01). 

* * *

Sydney jogged after Scott and Stiles, who had decided that they weren't going to wait for her, considering the time she was taking to hop out of Stiles' jeep (she hadn't wanted to take her own car and take up a parking spot that someone else could use) without flashing people walking nearby. Of course, she had shorts on under her skirt, but they still looked enough like underwear that someone would think they were seeing things they definitely weren't seeing.

Thank god she had decided to wear flats, and not the wedges she was seriously considering this morning. She'd twist her ankle before she ever caught up with the two if she had worn them.

"- say she ate it, I just said it was missing," Stiles said, and Sydney appeared between the best bros.

"You're talking about the liver again, aren't you?" Sydney said, scrunching her nose. Stiles just shot her an annoyed look and continued.

"And you know what? Even if she did, so what? It's the most nutritious part of the body."

"Of course you'd know that."

"I never ate anyone's liver," Scott said, sounding completely innocent.

"Yeah, right, 'cause when it comes to werewolves," Stiles groaned, "you're a real model of self control. Actually, wait - hold on." Stiles stopped Scott, and therefore Sydney. "You're the test case for this, so we should be going over what happened to you."

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what was going through your mind?" Sydney interjected.

"Yeah, like what were you drawn to?" Stiles asked.

"Allison," Scott replied instantly.

"Okay, nothing else?" Stiles sighed, "seriously?"

"Nothing else mattered. But, no, that's good, though, right? 'Cause the night that Lydia was bit, she was with you."

"Yeah, but she was looking for...Jackson." Stiles rolled his head in the direction of the douche-on-wheels, and Scott and Sydney's eyes followed. Ah, the epitome of douche had arrived, just in time to harass a homeless man. What a douchenozzle.

**.**

Sydney had been sitting in the library, bored as hell, for about two hours now. She finished the assignment she had been stress-working on for the past couple days in a matter of minutes, leaving her a full day of nothing to do. At one point she decided to pop into the mythology section, reading up as much (as she already didn't know) werewolf mythology, just because she could, which was then followed by extensive research on druids, and then by association, witches. It was oddly surprising how many books the Beacon Hills High School library had just on mythology alone.

By now, her breakfast had worked its way through her system and she was starting to get hungry. Damn her fast metabolism. As if on cue, her stomach grumbled and she whispered, "shut up!" to it in the least mentally insane way possible. After her stomach groaned three more times, each time causing her to complain at her stomach - _which totally didn't look weird at all _(it totally looked weird) - she decided that a quick trip to the vending machine was in order. She reached into her pockets - yes, her skirt had pockets - to find any loose hanging change, or maybe her wallet that had mysteriously vanished two months ago. That'd be a prize, considering she had had $20 and some odd change (that probably equated to a dollar and a half) in it.

She managed to scrounge up $1.24, which was plenty enough for a bag of Cheez-It's or some Cool Ranch Doritos. She shoved all of the money into one pocket before pushing out her chair to inform the librarian - Ms. Winters, they go way back - that she was going to get something from the vending machine.

"Just make sure you eat them outside," Ms. Winters said, giving a glare to Sydney. To anyone else it must've seemed like a harsh glare, but she knew how hard the librarian tried to keep the library floor clean. She was somewhat of a clean freak.

"Will do, Ms. Winters," Sydney said, giving a small mock salute in the librarian's direction before exiting the library.

Now where was the nearest vending machine? _It's probably be empty by now, though_, she thought. But there was always the one that was down the hall and up the stairs, all the way to the right. That one was hidden from view unless you had Mr. Zagata's drama class, which few people did. She started down the hall, but something - _someone_ - caught her eye: Mr. Tall, Brooding, and Previously a Suspect in a Case of Mass Murder walking at the end of the hall. The last time she checked - well, Stiles checked - Derek Hale was not a high school student.

Completely abandoning her quest to the most well-stocked vending machine, she ran down the hall, straight for the alpha.

If he had heard her running down the hall, he didn't make any note that he had. Everything aside, he should have at least been able to hear her pounding heartbeat, since she hadn't actually had any physical exercise since her freshman year when she took P.E., if you didn't count the time during the summer that Scott and Stiles used her as a goalie in a (really bad) attempt to improve at lacrosse to make first line. At least they'd given her some pads so she wouldn't be cover in bruises (it had actually been decided in a rock-paper-scissors death match to see who had to give up their lacrosse pads, and Scott had been the loser).

She grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket, effectively causing him to stop.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"That's none of your business."

"Uh, yeah, that kind of is my business. It's been my business ever since you tried to turn me." Derek gave her a look. "Oh. _Oh_. You're here on pack business? _Jesus Christ, Derek_. Why the hell do you have to prey on high school students? Is it a hereditary thing or something, because your dead psychotic uncle did the same thing. Why can't you pick people who are fresh out of high school so they don't have to miss school because of a sudden case of lycanthrope problem? Have you ever thought about -" She stopped flat, putting her hand over her mouth. Derek's eyes were glowing red.

"You are in no position to criticize me," he growled.

"I'll criticize you as much as I want, you asshole," she replied, forgetting momentarily that who she was arguing with was, in fact, a werewolf and could potentially lash out and kill her in a fit of anger. "Do you want me to print out a list of ways you could be a better alpha or would you rather me fax it to you?"

"Shouldn't you be in class?" He said, clearly wanting her to leave so their little yelling match - well, Sydney was doing all the yelling - would end.

"No, as a matter of fact, I shouldn't."

Derek just stared at her.

"I graduated early, dipshit," she sighed. "Now get your werewolf ass out of this school before I report you for being in the school without a visitor's pass." It was a really bad threat. So bad, that she was pretty sure she heard Derek laugh as she stalked down the hallway in the direction of the stairs.

**.**

Sydney and Stiles went as sneakily as possible to where Scott was hiding behind large headstone. Stiles crouched behind his best friend, and Sydney behind her brother. The twins leaned out behind Scott to watch the Argent family to walk up to seats that had been placed in front a of the casket that held Kate. Someone unknown to the three was walking towards where Allison and her parent were seated, accompanied by what looked like a pair of bodyguards.

"Who the hell's that?" Stiles asked.

"He's definitely an Argent," Scott replied.

The three all ducked back behind the headstone as the unknown old man looked in their direction.

"No doubt about that," Sydney grumbled.

They all leaned back out, and Scott waved to Allison.

"Hey, you know, maybe they're just here for the funeral. I mean - what if they're the non-hunting side of the family? There could be non-hunting Argents," Stiles said. "It's possible, right?"

"However unlikely that is," Sydney muttered.

"I know what they are. They're reinforcements," Scott said.

"Ah. The two of you," a voice said behind them, and Stiles and Sydney were hauled up to a standing position by by the backs of their shirts. It was their dad. "Scott too? Unbelievable. Pick up my tie."

Stiles bent over, picking up the tie that was on the ground. "Got it. Sorry. I know, I'm supposed to ask."

The sheriff dragged the three of them to his squad car, putting them all in the back.

Scott rested his head against the back of the seat, while Stiles stared at the back of the passenger's seat, with a grumpy expression on his face. Sydney was sandwiched between the two, who was slouching so far that her head was shoulder-level with the boys.

"4 - 1 - 5 Adam," came the radio. The sheriff picked up the receiver and talked into it.

"I didn't copy that. Did you say 4 - 1 - 5 Adam?"

"Disturbance in a car," Stiles and Sydney whispered in unison to Scott.

"They were taking a heart attack victim - D.O.A. But on the way to the hospital, something hit 'em," the radio said.

"What - hit the ambulance?"

"Copy that. I'm standing in front of it right now. Something got in the back. There's blood everywhere. And I mean everywhere."

"All right, unit 4, what's your 20?"

"Route 5 and post. I swear, I've never seen anything like this."

"All right, take it easy. I'm on my way." He turned in his seat, to look at the three in the back. "Now as for you three -" But the door was wide open, the delinquents M.I.A.

**.**

The trio were crouched behind a log, looking toward where the bloodied ambulance was. Squad cars were around it, and it looked like things were being taken out of it for evidence.

"What the hell is Lydia doing?" Stiles asked.

"I don't know," Scott said.

"What kept you from doing that, was it Allison?" Sydney questioned, looking to Scott.

"I hope so." There was a pause.

"Do you need to get closer?" Stiles asked.

Scott breathed in the air, "No, I got it." He shifted away, like he was about to get up, but Sydney grabbed his sleeve.

"Just- just find her, okay," she said with a pleading voice. "All right? Please, just find her."

"I will."

Stiles put a hand on Scott's shoulder and squeezed it, before wrapping the same arm around his sister's shoulder.

**.**

"But do they have any leads to where she could have gone to? Have you tried search dogs?" Sydney asked, wrapped in a shock blanket. She wasn't in shock or anything, but it was starting to get cold and being just in a cardigan did not keep her warm enough.

"We have a team of dogs out right now," Sheriff Stilinski sighed. "And if we don't find her soon, she could get hypothermia."

"Possibly go into shock," she replied with a vacant expression.

"Lydia?" Stiles exclaimed, seeing the naked redhead - er, correction - _strawberry blonde _emerge from behind a tree and into the headlights of the several squad cars parked around the ambulance.

Sydney turned her head from her father. "Lydia? Lydia!"

Lydia finally glanced up, her finger curling and uncurling. "Well - is anyone gonna get me a coat?"

The Sheriff started reaching to pull off his jacket, and Stiles ended up reaching for his shoulder, trying to pull it off of his father the opposite direction jackets are supposed to be taken off, and just ended up falling to the ground with a flail of his arms.

"Oh my god," Sydney said and rolled her eyes before taking the jacket that was now removed from her dad's shoulders and walking it over to where Lydia was. Sydney threw the orange shock blanket over Lydia's shoulders, then her dad's jacket. "C'mon Lyds, let's get you home. And some clothes."


	4. four

**note: **This chapter takes place during _Shape Shifted_ (2x02). 

* * *

"It was kinda like a scent, but I couldn't tell who it was," Scott told Stiles.

Sydney appeared on the bleacher just above the two, leaning against her brother and throwing an arm around him.

"Scent...people...are we talking about werewolves?" she asked.

"Yeah - someone on the team is one, but I don't know who."

"Shouldn't you be at home?" Stiles asked his sister, "Sleeping?"

"What, I can't watch you guys practice? Is that against the rules or something? I can't spend my free day watching my brother, his best friend, one of my best friends and a whole bunch of other people play lacrosse?"

Stiles just scowled at his sister, looking back to Scott. "What if you can get them one-on-one? Would that help?"

"Yeah," Scott said, nodding.

"Okay, I think I got an idea," Stiles said before getting up and running down the field. Sydney crawled down to where her brother had been sitting, elbowing Scott.

"So, another werewolf on the team, huh? Whoever it is must be the person Derek was here to see yesterday." She squinted out at the field, like she could tell who the werewolf was just by looking, which was definitely not the case. Scott, in the meantime, nearly gave himself whiplash turning his head to look at her.

"Derek was here?!"

"Yeah, you didn't know that? He said he was on "pack business". Whatever that means. He looked pretty -"

And Stiles was back, arms loaded with goalie gear, cutting his sister off when he spoke. "Told coach you'd switch with Danny today," he said, dumping the pads into Scott's lap.

"But I hate playing goal," Scott groaned.

" 'Member when I said I had an idea, yeah? This is the idea."

"Ohhhh."

"There we go."

"What's the idea?"

"I seriously don't understand how you survive without me sometimes."

**.**

"What the hell are you doing Scott," Sydney mumbled. Was that Stiles' plan? To tackle - oh, now stick-flip - everyone until they find out who the werewolf was? That was completely obvious and strange-looking to anyone who didn't know what was going on. _Hell_, even she didn't know what was going on.

But then the Sheriff, accompanied by two other officers - _looking all a little over the top with their shades_, Sydney thought - walked onto the field in the direction of Scott and another boy, who were both crouched on the ground.

She practically flung herself off the bleachers and down to the grass where Scott and Stiles now were, the unidentified lacrosse player having joined the sheriff a little ways off the field.

"Hey," Sydney said, joining Scott and Stiles on the field. "Why's dad here?" she asked, looking at her brother, but instead got a response from Scott.

"His father's dead. They think he was murdered," he said.

"And who is this "he"?" she asked.

"Isaac Lahey," he replied.

"Are they saying he's a suspect?" Stiles asked.

"I'm not sure. Why?"

"Because they can lock him in a holding cell for twenty-four hours."

"Like overnight?"

"During the full moon," Sydney said grimly.

"Are these holding cells good at holding people?" Scott asked, looking to Stiles, concerned.

"Holding people? Good. Werewolves? Probably not that good," Stiles sighed.

"Stiles, remember when I said I don't have the urge to maim and kill?"

"Yeah."

"He does."

The three watched as Isaac is carted off the field, the werewolf tossing a worried look over his shoulder at Scott.

"Oh, this is bad," Sydney mumbled, "very bad."

**.**

"Scott!" Sydney shouted as Scott ran out of the front doors of the school. She chased after him, grabbing his arm and pulling him back as the squad car containing Isaac drove away. "Scott, look at me. I already tried reasoning with my dad to let Isaac go. They can't let him go, not until they figured out who killed his dad."

Suddenly, a sleek black Camaro pulled up and the passenger-side window unrolled. None other than Derek Hale leaned over, saying, "get in."

"Are you serious? You did that," Scott practically shouted, pointing to the squad car leaving the parking lot. "That's your fault."

"I know that. Now get in the car and help me."

"I've got a better idea; I'm going to call a lawyer. Because a lawyer might actually have a chance at getting him out before the moon goes up."

"Not when they do a real search of the house."

"What'd you mean?" Sydney asked.

"Whatever Jackson said to the cops - what's in the house is worse. A lot worse," Derek said seriously. "Now get in." He pushed open the passenger-side door.

Scott sighed, before climbing in. Sydney quickly tried to get in after Scott, but Derek glared at her.

"You're not coming."

"Yeah, I am," she said impatiently.

"No, you're not," he said, trying to pull the passenger-side door shut, but she wedged her foot in the way.

"Yes, I am. Whether it be in your goddamn car or my own, I am coming. So either you take me on your little field trip to Isaac's house or I'm going to call my dad and tell him he should get his ass down to the house pronto because someone's tampering with evidence."

Derek glanced from Sydney to Scott, looking for some help to stop the girl from coming, but Scott just shrugged as some sort of vague apology.

"Fine," Derek grumbled. "But you're sitting in the back."

Sydney smiled as Scott got out, letting her climb into the back of the Camaro. When they were all in and the door was closed, Derek didn't bother waiting for them to buckle when he sped out of the parking lot.

Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat as they started down the road, like he had something that he wanted to say.

"Why were you at the school earlier?" he spat out eventually.

Derek flashed Sydney a glare in the rearview mirror.

"What? You can't just go sneaking around the school and expect me not to tell anyone."

**.**

"If Isaac didn't kill his father, who did?" Scott asked, waving his flashlight around the dark house. Sydney was attached to his arm, since Derek had only brought two flashlights, only expecting the field trip to the Lahey house to include two. She could handle a dark and scary forest, but not a dark and scary house.

"I don't know yet," Derek replied.

"Then how do you know he's telling the truth?" Sydney asked.

"Because I trust my senses. And it's a combination of them." Derek glanced at Scott before adding, "not just your sense of smell."

"You saw the lacrosse thing today," Scott grumbled.

"Your creeping never ceases, does it?" Sydney asked.

Derek shot Sydney another glare. "Yeah."

"Did it look that bad?"

"Yeah."

"You stick-flipped one guy and tackled two others. Of course it looked bad," Sydney said, but she patted Scott on the arm. "But don't worry. You're not the epitome of subtle, either."

"Gee, thanks Syd," Scott said sarcastically.

They all walked in silence further into the house, Derek taking the lead. Soon they arrived at the top of a staircase.

"What's down there?" Scott asked.

"A motive," Derek said, motioning for Scott to go down the stairs.

"I'm staying up here," Sydney muttered, removing her hands from Scott's arm. She lingered behind Derek, Scott beginning to descend the stairs.

"And what am I looking for?" Scott asked.

"Follow your senses," Derek replied.

"What happened down here?"

"The kind of thing that leaves an impression."

As Scott wandered around in the dark basement, Derek began to quietly go down the stairs.

"Don't leave me up here alone!" Sydney stage-whispered, and Derek shoved the flashlight he had been holding into her hands.

"You'll be fine."

"What if whatever killed Isaac's dad is here, and you're leaving me by myself!"

Derek rolled his eyes. "It's not here."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know," he said, and then went down the stairs.

**.**

Derek's Camaro pulled up to the side of the road, parking in front of a tall building.

"Okay," Sydney sighed, glancing into the illuminated window of the police station. "The keys to every cell are in a password protected lock box in my dad's office; the only problem is getting past the front desk."

"I'll distract her," Derek says, reaching for the door handle.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, you? You're not going in there." She grabbed his sleeve and he glanced from her hand to her, and repeated the motion. "Okay, taking my hand off."

"I was exonerated."

"You're still a person of interest."

"An innocent person."

"An- you? Yeah, right. Okay fine," she sighed, "what's your plan?"

"To distract her."

"How? By punching her in the face? Maiming just a little bit?"

"Hah," he said, giving a quick, fake grin. "By talking to her."

"Give me a sample. What are you going to open with?" He doesn't say anything. "Dead silence. That should work beautifully. You got any other ideas?"

"I'm thinking about punching you in the face."

Sydney gave him an offended look and he hopped out of the car, visibly pleased with himself, and went into the station.

"Good evening, how can I help...you?" the officer at the front desk drawled, before dropping the file she was holding.

"Hi," Derek said with a smile that surprisingly uncreepy.

"Hi."

Sydney rolled her eyes from the door.

"Uh, I have a question. Uh, sorry, I'm a little thrown. I wasn't really expecting someone..."

Sydney snuck slowly over to the desk, making her way to the hallway that lead down to her dad's office, doing a half-turn to see if anyone was looking, even though no one was.

"Like...me?"

"Oh, I was gonna say so incredibly beautiful, but yeah, I guess that'd be the same thing."

Sydney got into the office and started punching in the numbers, only to find the front of the lock box come off.

"Oh no..." she muttered. She exited the office and went to walk back towards the front, but ran into an officer. "Oh, uhh, just looking, um...ah, shit."

She turned and tried to run, but was grabbed my the hunter-in-disguise, part of an arrow sticking out of his leg. _Allison's distraction._ She tried to turn and run back towards the front of the station, but he grabbed her and put a hand over her mouth. Screaming for help was now totally out of the question, although biting... biting was not. Well, it was, since the way he had covered her mouth didn't allow any fingers for her to bite. She flailed her arms, trying to hit the guy and get free, but it was no use. It was hopeless - that was until she saw a fire alarm. As she was dragged by, she pulled it, setting off the alarm and sprinklers. The hunter dropped her as soon as they were in the room that housed the holding cells, and the cell that was supposed to have Isaac in it. But the door was wide open, Isaac nowhere to be seen in the small barred room.

Then he appeared, running at the hunter and pushing him into a table, snarling. He tossed the hunter back across the room into the wall, and Sydney moved as quickly as she could across the floor to the opposite side of the room. The hunter flung his arm up the inject the werewolf with some purple liquid in syringe, what she assumed was liquified wolfsbane. But Isaac grabbed his wrist, twisting it so the syringe dropped from his hand, then proceeding to bash the hunter's head into the wall and knocking him out cold.

Derek walked into the room, stepping on the syringe and breaking it, catching the attention of Isaac. He turned to look at Derek, then where Sydney was. Derek looked from Sydney back to Isaac and made a move to step forward, Derek growled at him. That caused Isaac to cower back against the wall, whimpering and putting his hands over his head, before lifting his head up to reveal his de-wolfed features.

"How did you do that?" Sydney asked.

Derek turned to look at her, a smile in the corner of his mouth before he simply stated, "I'm the alpha."

She pushed herself into a sitting position, before using the desk as leverage to stand. She then proceeded to walk up to Derek and punch him in the arm as hard as she could, which didn't faze him at all, only making him quirk his eyebrow at her.

"_Flirting_? That was you're big plan?" she huffed out, annoyed.


	5. five

**note: **I went back and edited the chapters so they weren't so bare, and so I could fleshed Sydney out more. I'd suggest going back to read them.

**note2: **This chapter takes place during _Ice Pick_ (2x03).

* * *

"I don't know why you're dragging me into this," Sydney said, walking next to her brother in the lunch room. "I'm not even invited!"

"Shut up!" Stiles replied, "you're here for moral support. Also to punch him if things turn sour."

"Oh, what, you're not going to punch him?"

"Have you seen him?" Stiles glanced at Boyd, who was seated by himself at a lunch table, his back to the twins.

"Oh my god, you're such a baby," she groaned, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him over to the table.

They both pulled out seats and sat down, although Stiles tried to act unsuspicious, as if he was trying to get drugs from the guy opposite him; that was definitely not the case, and Stiles was just an idiot. This was not some stupid drug deal, this was just getting a set of keys from someone who happened to look intimidating to Stiles.

"Boyd," Sydney said in greeting, but leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Sydney," Boyd replied.

"You got the keys?" Stiles asked and Boyd held out his fist, uncurling his fingers to reveal a set of keys dangling between his fingers. Stiles reached out and wrapped a hand around the keys and pulled, expecting to just take them from Boyd. But when he pulled, Boyd didn't let go. He tried to pull once more, twice more, and Boyd still didn't let go.

"This isn't a favor, it's a transaction."

"Right, yeah," Stiles said, letting go of the keys, "absolutely." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled looking twenty dollar bill, slamming it down onto the table (way to keep your subtleness, Stiles).

"I said fifty."

"Really? I remember twenty. I don't know, I have a really good verbal memory, and I remember twenty. I remember the distinctive '_twa_' sound. _Twwa-_enty."

"I said fifty, with a '_fuh_' sound. Hear the difference?" Stiles made a squeaking noise, and Sydney had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing at her brother. "If you can't I can demonstrate some other words with the '_fuh_' sound."

"Uh - no, no, no - I think I'm recalling it now." Stiles let out a light laugh. "Maybe I just got it confused with _fooour_-ty," he said, putting down another twenty on the table. Boyd just gave Stiles a look and took a Dorito from his lunch, shoving it into his mouth and crunching it. Stiles was trying hard to bargain, and Boyd was having none of that nonsense. Stiles blew out a breath. "C'mon man, have you seen the piece of crap jeep that I drive?"

"Damn straight," Sydney muttered and Stiles shot her a look.

"Have you seen the piece of crap bus that I take?" Boyd countered, and Sydney almost blurted out '_you're gonna need ice for that burn_'. Stiles shrugged and reached back into his pocket, pulling out a ten and slamming it down with the other dollars. Boyd smiled, a complete shit-eating grin and handed the keys over to Stiles, who smiled sarcastically back at Boyd.

"Okay, thank you," Stiles said, getting up from his seat and walking away as soon as he had the keys in his hand.

"Bye Boyd," Sydney said as she stood up to follow her brother a few tables down to where Scott was sitting.

"Bye Sydney," he replied, the grin still on his face.

"Got 'em," Stiles said, taking a seat across from Scott, Sydney taking the one next to her brother. "Pick you up right after work tonight and we'll meet at the rink, cool?"

"Still not inviting me?" Sydney asked them both, but Scott was too busy staring towards the door to acknowledge her question. She turned around in her seat to see someone enter the cafeteria, dressed in cheetah print high heels, a short black shirt, and a leather jacket with a white shirt underneath it. She walked in, leaned down and grabbed an apple off of some kid's tray. She took a bite and wiped her red lip with her finger.

"What. The holy hell. Is that?" Lydia, who suddenly appeared at the end of their table, asked.

"It's Erica," Scott said, as Erica began to take a few steps back and turn around, walking back towards the doors, looking back and taking one last bite from the apple before disappearing out the doorway. Stiles and Scott instantly pushed out from their chairs, followed by Sydney, and they all exited the lunch room and made a b-line for wherever Erica was going. They practically tripped down the stairs and ran down the hallway to the doors, only to see a familiar black Camaro and Erica getting into it. Derek glanced over at the trio, flashing a smile before driving off. Stiles' mouth was hanging open slightly, but Scott just looked pissed.

"That could've been me," Sydney mumbled.

"What?" Stiles asked, furrowing his eyebrows and looking to his sister.

"Uh, nothing."

**. . . . .**

"If you would've invited me in the first place, I could've gotten you a discount," Sydney sang to her brother, punching him in the arm; very dangerous, considering he was driving. They were heading to the clinic, going to pick up Scott, then Allison and Lydia.

"I didn't want you to be the awkward fifth wheel!" Stiles said, momentarily lifting his hands up off the steering wheel.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "You just didn't want me to be there because you wanted to make a move on Lydia."

"What - I- I _do not._"

"Sure you don't."

**.**

Sydney shot Stiles a look that read '_I told you so_', after his failed attempt at trying to tell Lydia that he thinks that opposites attract and they should totally date (not in that exact wording), and just mouthed '_shut up_' to her. She chuckled and finished tying her laces before carefully stepping off the bleachers, following Scott and Allison onto the ice. She hadn't skated in a long time, not since the last time she spent the night at Lydia's house, which was several, _several_ years ago. She started out slow, just skating around the outer corner of the rink, while Lydia was going straight for the gold and started off with medal-worthy spins that left Stiles' mouth hanging open.

Sydney was looping back around by Lydia when the latter finished her spins, so Sydney held out her hands as she went by and Lydia grabbed them. The two skated, doing couples skating moves, ones that they had been taught when Lydia had taken Sydney along to one of her skating classes. They were much easier to do now, since they were no longer 12 or incredibly short. After a few laps and some more tricks, Sydney slingshotted Lydia towards Stiles - who was just standing in the middle of the ice, having watched his sister and long-time crush do some rather impressive ice dancing - and went back on her merry way of skating around the outside of the rink.

After a bit of Stiles and Lydia skating together, Sydney snuck up on them and (literally) started skating circles around Stiles, challenging him to a race, which grudgingly accepted.

"Rules?" Stiles asked, crouching next to his sister, like a speed skater.

"No playing dirty, and no doing half circles, you gotta go all the way around," Sydney said, crouching as well. "And stay on the outside, I'm not having any of this "skating in the middle" business."

"Laps?"

"Three."

And then they were off, Lydia being their unofficial referee. But by the time they reached the second lap Lydia started screaming, screaming at the ice. Stiles and Sydney flashed each other looks, abandoning their race and rushing over to where Lydia was on her hands and knees on the ice.

"Lydia? Lydia what's wrong?" Sydney asked, but Lydia just kept screaming, not acknowledging them besides grabbing onto them.

**. . . . .**

Sydney reached into her pocket and pulled out her ringing phone, the song _Teenagers _by My Chemical Romance blaring out of its speaker. She smiled apologetically at the librarian, answering the call, ready to yell at Stiles for interrupting her from actually doing her homework. But she was cut off before she could even speak.

"Meet me at my jeep, like right now," Stiles said, and she could hear the sound of his jeep door opening in the background.

"Stiles, what -"

"I don't have time to explain, just get out here, quick." And then _click_, Stiles hung up on her. She quickly shut her laptop and grabbed her backpack, not even bothering to put it in her bag. She just carried it, practically sprinting down the hallway and towards the main doors. She burst out of them and headed straight for her brother's jeep, pulling the door open but not getting in.

"What are you waiting for? Get in!"

"I'm not getting in until you tell me what's going on."

Stiles sighed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel before he answered. "Boyd."

"What about Boyd?"

"He's Derek's new beta. Scott wants me to go to his house to see if we can stop him from getting the bite."

Sydney stiffened. "We're taking my car."

"But -"

"Get out of the car Stiles, we're taking mine. It's faster and we're running out of time." Stiles complied to his sister's wished, getting out of his jeep and jogging over to her car, which was parked a row away from his. It was no use arguing with her, because time was truly of the essence right now.

"Do you know where -"

"Yes, now hold onto something," she said as she backed out of her parking space, whipping around and heading for the exit of the parking lot.

**.**

Sydney's car skidded to a halt and Stiles jumped out, not even bothering to wait until his sister had parked her car. Sydney grumbled and turned off the engine as her brother banged on the door and window, trying to get Boyd (if he was actually home) out of his house. She crawled into the backseat, going to grab the sweatshirt she didn't have time to pull on when Stiles had rushed her into getting to his car and to Boyd's house. She unzipped her bag and reached under a book she had checked out from the library, pulling her sweatshirt out from under it. She was just about to put it on when she heard the hood of her car being opened, which caused her to freeze. She could still hear Stiles yelling in the background, so it definitely him pulling open the hood. She didn't bother to look to see who it was after the car hood had shut, because the sound of clicking heels outside her car gave it away. Sydney pulled on her sweatshirt as fast as she could and wrenched open the back door, stepping out just in time to see her brother hit in the head by a part from her car.

"That's my brother, you bitch," Sydney growled, striding across the front lawn of Boyd's house punch Erica right in the face. It was going to hurt like hell, but knocking her brother out cold would not come without any consequences. She went to swing, but her arm was grabbed by Erica, her eyes flashing gold.

"Aw, little sister's trying to help," Erica cooed.

"We're twins, bimbo," Sydney spat, before trying to swing with her free arm (knowing that she was right-handed and that her attempt to punch Erica with her left hand would fail miserably) but it was grabbed as well. Erica just grinned, before leaning back and bashing her head into Sydney's; and like a light, she was out cold, dropping on the cement to join her brother, only to wake up an hour later in a garbage bin with her brother.


End file.
